


Build Your Bones

by vogue91



Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Advice, Anxiety, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14274441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: Since those photos had been published he had felt suffocated by responsibilities that he hadn’t felt he had before.As if he was forced to do even better, as if he was making up for a mistake.





	Build Your Bones

Ohno slammed the door harder than he should’ve.

He was so damn tired.

Both physically and mentally.

How long had it been since the last time he had slept eight hours straight?

Between the shooting for his drama, for the TV shows, recording and everything, the last thing he needed was to have any more stuff to do.

But no; he had taken some time from Maou’s set just to go shoot the PV for ‘Truth’, just to work some more, to feed his lack of rest, to prohibit to himself to fall on the ground at sleep there for at least twelve hours.

He felt a little guilty, to tell the truth.

Both Aiba and Sho had had a hard time memorizing the choreography, it had been longer than he expected and... that had been it.

He had gotten mad at them and had yelled. He had gotten nervous, and now he was sorry for the things he had said.

Everyone could make mistakes, and it hadn’t been fair on his part to take his bitterness out on them.

He sent one mail each apologizing, hoping that they understood he wasn’t really mad, then collapsed on the couch.

He stared at the clock and winced: a little less than four hours, and then he was supposed to be back on set, for yet another exhausting day of shooting.

He was done.

It was like in the past few months – or years – he hadn’t really been able to rest.

He went to bed thinking about what he was supposed to do the morning after, his mind always set on work, and every single hour of sleep he was granted was agitated, restless.

When he was a junior he spent most of his days playing at the Kyo to Kyo, and what time he didn’t spend on stage he did rehearsing.

It was to build his bones they said, and he believed that. He liked to dance, he liked to sing... he got lost in his world, and he felt tired just when the lights went off.

It was bearable, then.

But ten years had gone by, and it wasn’t about building his bones anymore, just wearing them out.

He was frustrated.

He didn’t mind working, he had never done, but it was a tad too much. He knew that at the Jimusho they had all the same issue, and that all of their schedules were exhausting.

He laid down on the couch, massaging his temples. ‘Truth’s melody had gotten inside his brain, and as pleasant as that could be, it hindered him from finding the silence necessary to enjoy, at least in part, those few hours of sleep.

He had heard that song no less than thirty-five times that night; he liked the song, he liked the music, he liked the choreography forming in his brain.

What he liked less, was to be full with those notes, so much that he could’ve easily started hating it.

He sat back up, sighing.

He took his phone, read Aiba’s reply – if Sho was lucky, he was sleeping – and then dialled Jun’s number.

His friend picked up after a few rings, a clear sign that he was sleeping. Bless him.

“Riida? What happened?” he asked, his voice both sleepy and anxious.

“Matsujun... nothing happened, I just wanted to talk to someone.” there was a long silence at the other end of the phone, and Ohno wanted to check that the other was still there. “Matsujun?” he repeated. Finally he heard him sighing, and then he answered.

“At three in the morning?” more than annoyed – or furious, which would’ve been legit – Matsumoto sounded surprised. Ohno bit his lip.

He wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like him to call at those unholy hours, not without a very good reason.

He put himself in his shoes, and realized that he would’ve probably been dead worried.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I... I couldn’t sleep. I suppose I woke you up, I’m sorry. Well... we’ll talk tomorrow, alright? Go back to sleep. Again, sorry.” he muttered quickly, and was about to put the phone down when the other stopped him.

“Wait, wait!” he said. “If you’ve called me, there must be a good reason. I’m awake anyway, so I think you can very well talk now.” he went on, trying to sound reassuring.

Ohno hesitated.

All of a sudden, he felt terribly stupid.

“I told you, it’s nothing serious.” he sighed. “It’s about work. Lately... I don’t know, it seems like we don’t have time to breath. There’s always something to do, some drama to study the script for during the pauses from the shootings, some song to record, some TV show to be at. It’s too much.” he paused, uncertain as to how go on, if he should’ve told Jun what his real problem was. “And then, well... you know, Maou is the first drama where I got the lead role. I’m not used to it, it’s not something I normally do. I’m always worried about making mistakes, to make the wrong thing. With the pictures that got out... I don’t really feel comfortable on the set.” he said, quickly, as if unable to stop.

Jun sighed, and interrupted him once again.

“Calm down, Riida, please. What’s the issue? The work, the drama? Or are the pictures the real problem? Because, I’m sorry, you sound confused. One thing at a time.” he said, pragmatic.

Ohno sighed, biting on his lip.

It was everything, in the end.

Since those photos had been published he had felt suffocated by responsibilities that he hadn’t felt he had before.

As if he was forced to do even better, as if he was making up for a mistake.

Perhaps that was exhausting him. Having thrown himself head first into work because he felt he had something to prove, to himself and to others.

That he was professional. That he took his job seriously. That those pictures, taken in the worst possible moment, had nothing to do with the Ohno Satoshi who got up every morning and went to work, even at the earliest hours of the morning.

“I know, Matsujun. Yes, I’m confused, terribly so. It’s like I knew what to do before. Even if I wasn’t used to the rhythm and the kind of work a drama takes, I still thought I could make it, like I’ve learnt to do all the new things I’ve been forced to make. But now... I feel like I’m stuck. I don’t care what other people think about the person I am, but I don’t like them to doubt my efforts, because I’ve always done my best, and it’s like that article had erased in a split seconds all the years where I’ve worked so hard.” he said, trying to explain to the younger how he felt.

It wasn’t easy, he wasn’t used to; usually, he tried to solve his problems on his own, but he was at a breaking point, and he felt that if he hadn’t talked to someone about it he would’ve soon imploded.

Building his bones, building his bones. He had built his bones; now he just wanted to be sure no one was there to break them.

On the other end of the phone, Jun sighed.

“Satoshi... honestly, what do you care? There was a mild scandal, there had been many. The bubble burst, you’re still on Maou and everything went fine. Give the paparazzi some time and you’ll see they’ll find someone else to harass. Today you’re in the eye of the storm, and tomorrow people are going to forget about what happened and will focus on fresher news. It always happens, and you’ve been in the business long enough as to not let something like this crush you.” his voice was determined, as to let Ohno know that it wasn’t about soothing him or cheer him up; he truly thought what he was saying.

Ohno sighed, slowly.

After all, he knew the other was right. He knew it wasn’t the first time something like that happened, that they had all gone over it unharmed. Mostly.

Those words had suddenly made him feel lighter.

He should’ve kept giving his best, making an effort, trying to learn and best himself.

But he was going to do it because it was what was expected, because it was his job, because he liked to do it.

Not to show that he was better than the Ohno Satoshi that magazine had shown, because he didn’t have to prove anything to anybody, only that he was damn good at what he did.

“Jun... thanks.” he said to his friend, unable to express the relief he felt. He heard him chuckle lightly, before replying.

“It’s okay, Riida. It seems kind of obvious after you’ve heard it, doesn’t it?” he pointed out, expertly. He didn’t let him answer and went on. “Now, after having played my part of shoulder on which to cry, I’d say I’m going back to sleep. If I may.” he wanted to sound sarcastic, and Ohno would’ve felt horribly guilty if he hadn’t known Matsumoto like the back of his hand, if he hadn’t known he was never sorry about being useful. Him, like all of his friends.

“Fine, fine. I’ll let you rest, then. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes, if I’ll wake up.” the other ironized. “You go to sleep too, please. Not sleeping doesn’t help, you know?” he advised.

“Alright, I will. Goodnight, Jun. Thank you.” he said, trying to put in it all the gratitude he felt.

“It’s my job. Goodnight, Riida.”

They hanged up and Ohno, as promised, went to the bedroom, throwing himself on the mattress.

He stayed a few minutes staring at the ceiling, thinking about the conversation he had just had with Jun and what it meant.

It wasn’t a tragedy, was it?

It had happened to others, it was going to happen again, perhaps to him as well, perhaps to someone who was going to react the right way and take it as it was: an hindrance, maybe, something momentary, that did no harm, that wasn’t going to destroy the foundations of a career that now was more than steady.

He closed his eyes.

He hadn’t many hours left to sleep, but somehow he felt like he would’ve finally been well rested the next day.

Not managing to remember when that had last happened, Ohno went peacefully to sleep.

With a smile.


End file.
